


Blooming in Adversity

by Tearose_romantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dedue Molinaro/Petra Macneary - Freeform, Dedue being a sweetheart, Dorothea being the best wingwoman, F/M, For all 6 of you that ship this, Injury, Petra being an anime protagonist, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, What's a consistent upload schedule?, Winter training, You're Welcome, some minor injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tearose_romantic/pseuds/Tearose_romantic
Summary: On a school-wide field trip to learn winter survival and combat skills, Petra finds herself paired up with the taciturn Dedue.  Over time, the two start to rely on one another more and more, realizing they have more in common than just being outsiders to Fódlan.
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro/Petra Macneary, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Dorothea Arnault & Petra Macneary, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Petra Macneary, Petra Macneary & Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. Foreign Soil, Harsh Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was something I had no idea I would ever do. I asked my fiance on a whim, "What's a rare ship you like that no one else does?" Boy did he swing for the fences with Dedue/Petra! I literally could not find any content on these two. So, seeing a challenge I decided to try to make something myself. This is the fruit of that (possibly poorly thought out) idea. 
> 
> So, for like, the 6 people out there who ship this...enjoy! 
> 
> For the rest of you, hope you like the idea of a class field trip in the snow! I might reuse this idea later for some more mainstream pairs if I have enough fun with this. 
> 
> Also, did not realize how hard Petra's grammatical gaffs are so tough to write while still making her words intelligible! 
> 
> More chapters to come in the near future! Thanks for reading!

The wind of the Red Wolf Moon gnawed mercilessly at Petra’s fur-lined coat. The princess of Brigid couldn’t suppress a shiver as the march through the snow continued. Of course learning how to manage winter conditions was important for Fódlan campaigns. She understood that. That didn’t mean she had to like the sensation of cold toes and fingers while tramping through the Charon forests. 

Professor Byleth always seemed to suggest the oddest--but most effective--lesson plans. She had enjoyed the stealth mission training that turned into an inter-house game of Capture the Flag. Even the acting lessons for drafting speeches and diplomacy had enhanced her understanding of Fódlanese idioms and grammar. But this, this was just cruel. Maybe the students from Faerghus who endured such harsh climates yearly would need to know this. Even the Empire might need these skills if a campaign took them to the northern edges of the continent. But a warrior of Brigid had no need for winter warfare! 

“Alright everyone,” Professor Byleth’s voice rang out clearly over the crowd of students, all bundled in heavy winter gear, “This is where we will set up camp. As we discussed in lecture, you will be paired up into small groups. First order of business is erecting shelter. You have your gear in your packs and anything in your surroundings to utilize. If you have any questions, find me or the other faculty and we will assist you.” The young man’s speeches were always direct, clear, and empowering. Maybe one day, Petra thought, her voice could carry such authority and mastery in both her mother tongue and her new language. 

“Group 1: Ingrid, Linhardt, Leonie. Group 2: Ferdinand, Annette, Lorenz. Group 3: Dedue, Dorothea, Petra. Group 4: …”

Petra stopped listening after she heard her group. Dorothea, at least, she knew well. Looking out over the sea of fur and cloth, she found the delicate features of her friend. Trudging through the knee-deep snow, Petra made her way over to the songstress. As miserable as she felt, Petra could tell Dorothea felt worse. She visibly shook with the cold; her whole posture hunched inward against the wind. 

“Oh, Petra, thank the Goddess!” she exclaimed quietly, so as not to disrupt the other students receiving their assigned groups. Wrapping her arms in a quick embrace, Dorothea continued to huddle close Petra. “I can’t believe we couldn’t do this earlier in the winter.” 

Petra smiled wryly, “Yes, I have wished the same. The wind has great harshness here.” Petra didn’t have the energy to mentally check her grammar. It took her full attention just to keep her teeth from chattering as she spoke. “Though I suppose House Charon has...generosity to allow us the learning here.” 

“Call it what you will, I still wish we stayed at the Monastery!” Dorothea pouted as she huddled shoulder-to-shoulder with Petra. 

“Petra. Dorothea.” A deep voice interrupted the conversation between the two women. Petra trained her neck upward to look the tall Duscarite in the eyes. “Shall we begin?”

“It is good to be seeing you, Dedue.” Petra bowed formally. “And yes, let us commence. I am eager to find warmth again!” 

Dedue simply nodded and walked resolutely through the snow, his large strides breaking a path toward the treeline. 

“Verbose as ever, I see,” Dorothea murmured. Petra took little time to note the slight sarcasm in Dorothea’s comment. Keeping up with Dedue’s long strides took more effort in the snow, even following in the tracks he left. With his long legs, he seemed to walk almost normally in the heavy snow. Petra had never envied another’s height so much. She barely reached up to Dedue’s shoulder. Being short was never something that caused her much concern until her feet were wet with snow and half-chilled by the harsh northwind. 

“Since you are both from the Empire, I assume this is new for you,” Dedue stated as he began to unroll his pack beneath a copse of lodgepole pines. 

“You assume correctly,” Dorothea huffed, though a bit more delicately than before. “First is shelter, right?”

“That’s correct.” Dedue’s answers were always terse, but easy to understand. “First, determine the direction of the wind. We will set up our shelter so the entrance will not let it in.” 

Petra took a quick glance around. It was late in the morning, so the sun still hung in the east. Based on that… “The wind is coming from the north.” 

“Correct.” 

Dedue showed them how to fashion a lean-to against the tree, driving the spikes into the ground and using fallen pine branches to create a small floor. Petra appreciated his quick direction. It left little room for misunderstanding. 

“I should get a fire going next,” Dorothea volunteered, and wandered afield to start gathering pine cones and branches. 

Petra drove the tent spikes into the ground with a nearby stone, pleased with the exertion to warm her body. “Is this sufficient?”, she asked as she looked to her teammate for advice. 

Kneeling down to her level, Dedue twanged the rope to check its tension. “Almost. Just a few more strikes to get it in the ground. The snow isn’t sturdy enough.”

“You have my thanks,” she replied, pleased that she finally knew the acceptable Fódlanese response. The two continued to work in silence for a short while. Petra found herself wondering more about this strong, quiet man from the Blue Lions. She had only seen him a handful of times, and had heard him speak even less. She decided to see if she could get him talking, and went to the first thing she knew about him. “So, you are of Duscar, correct?” Petra knew very little of Dedue besides his heritage and his house. If they were going to share a tent, perhaps she ought to learn more about him. 

“That is correct,” Dedue drove the other spike into the ground as he spoke. His voice grew terse, different from the casual but direct way he had spoken before. “I understand your hesitation in dealing with me. I will do my best not to trouble you.” 

“That is not… I have misunderstanding...umm, I…” Petra struggled to put her feelings into words. She hadn’t meant to offend him, but it seems she unintentionally struck a nerve. “Why would I not wish to be interacting with you?” 

Dedue stopped and turned to meet Petra’s eyes. His thick brow furrowed and his expression darkened. “Because I am from Duscar,” he replied, as if that answered her question. 

“But, Duscar has no poor relationships with Brigid, or the empire, at least, none that I have knowing...” Petra remained confused. Frantically, she tried to rack her brain for what little she knew of Fódlan’s geopolitics. 

Dedue’s deep-set eyes widened slightly, “You don’t know about the Tragedy of Duscar?”

“I do not,” Petra solemnly replied, her own stake forgotten. “Though I am gathering it is not a happy occurrence with a name such as that.” 

Dedue sighed heavily and sat back on his cloth sack. “Four years ago, on a peace mission to Duscar, the King of Faerghus and most of his family and retinue were murdered. Only His Highness survived. My people were blamed for the carnage. In retaliation for the regicide, Duscar was razed.” 

Petra felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t imagine how devastating it would have been if her people had been destroyed instead of simply subjugated after their war against the Empire. To be both alone in a foreign land and a pariah...that would truly be a fate worse than death. To think Dedue had been through so much came as a huge shock to her. “I am sorry. I was not...did not know.” 

“Now you do,” Dedue replied simply. His voice contained no undue venom or sorrow. If anything, it seemed more resigned, matter-of-fact. 

“But that still does not change me wishing to work with you,” Petra replied earnestly. “Just as I am a foreigner and hard to be speaking with, some do not wish to be around me. In the Empire, I have been receiving many stares and unkind words. My father’s rebellion took their lives, and now we pay for it by becoming vassals to the Empire.” She met Dedue’s eyes resolutely, squaring her narrow shoulders as she faced him. “I believe I have some understanding of what you have endured. And I wish to work with you.” 

Dedue seemed taken aback with the sheer force of her sincere empathy. For a few moments, his eyes scanned her face, as if searching for something. If he found something, Petra did not know. Without another word, Dedue resumed work on the tent. He raised no further comments about himself or his people. Petra found herself a bit confused by his lack of response. Still, he did not try to rebuff her words directly...

A bright, familiar voice distracted her musing. “Well, no one tell the professor, but I’m going to cheat a little with getting this fire started,” Dorothea chirped as she came back to their campsite, arms laden with pine branches. “Petra, could you be a dear and help me assemble this?”

“Certainly!” Petra felt a swell of relief wash over her. She began piling the pine cones for kindling and making the tent of smaller twigs to help Dorothea. Dedue’s silence left her feeling deflated, and she welcomed a chance to walk away from the embarrassing silence. She truly had wanted to understand him, but perhaps she had overstepped some boundary and made him more uncomfortable. “Were you having trouble with the firewood?” 

“Not especially,” Dorothea commented blithely as she gathered a few larger branches, “Professor Byleth picked a good spot. The trees give us plenty of branches. They’re just a bit wet from the snow. Hence, a little cheating.” Dorothea manifested a small orb of fire in her palm.  
After a few seconds of a fire spell, (and a fair bit of smoke), Petra and Dorothea were rewarded with the satisfying blaze of a cozy fire. The intoxicating warmth finally restored feeling into the young womens’ fingers and toes. Petra felt utterly beside herself with joy. She offered a quick prayer of thanks to the Flame Spirit, her devotion suddenly deeper than it had ever been before. 

“We need to get food and water ready,” Dedue stated without meeting either of his teammate’s eyes. “I will do that if you will place your bedrolls in the tent.” 

As Dedue began to ready a pot with some snow to boil water, Dorothea glanced between him and Petra. “Did something happen?” 

“I attempted to make the little talk, but I was in ignorance of why people of Fódlan dislike people of Duscar. I believe I may have given him upset.” Petra grimaced at the memory. This wasn’t her first social gaff in Fódlan, and it certainly would not be her last. 

“Oh, Petra,” Dorothea pursed her lips with motherly concern, “it’s not your fault. I’m sure he’ll calm down. Besides, he knows more about cold weather than we do. We’ll need to get along to get through this weekend.” 

The two women grabbed their bed rolls and made their way over to the tent. Dedue had placed a bed of pine boughs on the floor to insulate them from the snow. Petra looked around the tent and realized just how small the space the three of them would be sharing was. Hopefully, that would translate to more warmth. She grew a little uncomforable thinking about her back touching Dedue when she may have offended him. This might be a long weekend, but at least it was just the weekend. Then she could let time heal whatever social wound she had inflicted on the Duscarite. 

Before long, Dedue added some small touches that made the campfire feel almost homey. A few larger logs became makeshift benches, and the smell of rabbit and potato soup warmed the air. Petra and Dorothea revelled in the chance to huddle by the fire without getting their fleece-lined pants wet. 

“Dedue, you truly are a miracle worker,” Dorothea sighed with her arms outstretched to the fire. “If I close my eyes, it almost feels like we’re back in the dining hall.” 

“Thank you,” Dedue’s eye did not leave the cook pot he stirred but there was a warmth to his voice, “it should be ready soon.” 

Dorothea continued to banter, more than making up for both Petra’s silence and Dedue’s phlegmatic responses. Petra found herself wondering why Dedue was so difficult to read. She had trouble expressing herself, but most of her classmates were not difficult to understand. Dedue just expressed so little that she had a hard time understanding what exactly his silence meant. She realized the quick, direct phrases he used were a double-edged sword. They were great for conveying instructions, but poor for conveying thoughts. 

Petra’s thoughts were interrupted by a bowl of soup under her nose. “Petra, eat.” The princess of Brigid jumped slightly in surprise. In response, Dedue’s eyes softened slightly. She hadn’t realized they were teal like the ocean before. 

With a slight bow of her head, Petra took the bowel in her hand. The soup smelled delicious in spite of its simplicity. After a few experimental puffs to cool it, Petra took a small sip. The gamey savor of the rabbit came through marvelously and paired nicely with the more mild potatoes and carrots. She tasted a small herb in there that she could not place, though it added a great richness to the simple soup. 

“Your cooking is good,” Petra smiled at Dedue, hoping to patch up whatever misstep she’d inadvertently made. “Especially for field rations.” 

Dedue’s eyes softened again, although his mouth did not smile. It was subtle, like the shifting of grass in the wind, but Petra had a hunter’s eye and did not miss the shift. “Thank you. I’ve always enjoyed cooking. I’m glad you enjoy it.” 

“It’s more than good, Dedue,” Dorothea exclaimed as she sipped delicately from her own bowl, “it’s positively divine! I don’t think anything could warm me up inside-out like this.” 

Dedue simply nodded this time, returning to a smaller, separate pot he had boiling. “Once you’re done, I’ve made a simple tea from the pine needles. It’s not fancy, but it will keep us warm.” 

Petra’s eyes widened, “You can be making drinks from the leaves of trees?” This new revelation opened a whole new possibility to her. Perhaps the oak and birch trees back at the academy would be tasty...

“Not all leaves,” Dedue answered sternly, but not harshly. “His Highness attempted to boil apple leaves into tea once. The results were...not good.” 

“That is the shame,” Petra sighed.

“Don’t tell me Prince Dimitri actually thought that was a good idea?” Dorothea’s emerald eyes glittered at the prospect of gossip.

“I think he was trying to be helpful, but he hasn’t much sense for taste,” Dedue replied mildly. “He meant well. He’d heard mention of apple-blend tea and wanted to try to make some, but I think he misunderstood.” 

Dorothea laughed coquettishly. Petra found herself unsure of some unspoken-but-understood blunder that occured in the story. “So why was the prince not in his right?” 

“Well,” Dorothea explained, “teas can only be made from certain dried plants and fruits. There are very few things you can just boil fresh and get a drink that tastes good. Apple blend is usually made from the dried fruits and the leaves of a tea plant mixed together, not fresh leaves from an apple tree.” Petra nodded gratefully to her friend. Dorothea was always so non-judgemental and patient in correcting Petra’s linguistic and cultural mistakes, and her graciousness never went unappreciated. 

“I suppose I am having much… um I have many things to learn about the food of Fódlan,” Petra chuckled, taking another sip of the soup and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of the evening. Dedue’s eyes softened once again with a simple nod, and the three of them dissolved into quiet enjoyment of warmth and company. 

Petra quietly offered her thanks to whatever spirit was listening. She felt the ice between herself and Dedue had melted, and she was grateful that her blunt comments seemed to have been forgiven. She found herself wondering if that softness in his eyes would show more often if they became better friends. Selfishly, she wanted to see the ocean of home reflected in them more often. For now, she simply enjoyed the comfort of food, companionship, and the promise of a good night’s rest before drills began in the morning.


	2. Analogous Roots, Convergent Growth

Drills began early, and Petra never found awakening more difficult. Dedue was not a small man, and the tent space barely fit the three of them. Each of them had been brushing shoulders or feet with one another, no matter the angle they arranged themselves. Propriety would have blushed at such close quarters, but the wonderful side-effect had been all their shared heat trapped inside the tent, sheltering them from the harsh cold. Loathe as Petra was to get out, she had her pride and the eyes of her comrades watching her. She arose without (verbal) complaint to the central clearing where the students were to gather for the morning’s assignment. 

Traveling in the snow had been its own challenge. Today, they would spar in the snow and run mock battle formations. Petra knew her normally speedy formations would be at a disadvantage, so she would need to compensate accordingly with her unit. Students grouped up with their houses to begin at their first session. The Black Eagles would first begin with a mock battle against the Knights of Serios. 

In the crisp air, Edelgard’s voice cut through their ranks like a hawk’s cry, clear and invigorating. She led her classmates against the faculty units deftly, a surprise to most as Hresvelg territory rarely grew cool enough for more than a gentle frost in the depths of the Lone Moon. Indeed, the heir to Adrestia seemed surprisingly accustomed to the snow and how to maneuver troops within it. Petra felt a small swell of pride in spite of herself as she ran her formation. In spite of Petra’s mixed feelings toward her, Edelgard proved a capable and charismatic leader. Petra found very little bitterness remained in her heart for her captor-turned-commander. 

Hubert and Lindhardt had utilized fire spells to melt patches of the snow, opening up Petra’s speedier assasins to force the Knights of Seiros toward Ferdinand’s cavalry: a perfectly atypical pincer attack. Edelgard’s strategies always had such unique brilliance to them. The rush of adrenaline warmed Petra’s limbs as she rushed to take on Alois. Petra’s fingers stung as her sword clashed against the tall knight’s shield and armor, sending electric shocks up her arm. The cold seemed determined to undermine even her grip on her weapon. Still, she did her best to press on. 

Alois took advantage of the muddied snowmelt and Petra’s slowed feet to catch her with his dulled axe. All the air escaped her lungs as she caught the blow square in her chest. With a heavy heart, she gasped “I yield” and made her way to the downed students. Her chest ached as she gasped for air like a fish, but the sting of defeat hurt worse. On normal terrain, she could easily dodge nearly any of his blows, for Alois’s wind ups were powerful but slow. Now, she felt like a novice again. Petra tried not to let it get to her too much, but her mood remained sour. 

Next to the downed students, Professor Manuela patched up scrapes, healed bruises, and generally lightened the mood of those no longer able to fight. So far, only Bernadetta, Cyril, and herself had been removed from the battle. “Petra, dear,” Manuela beckoned as Petra made her way over to her homeroom professor’s first aid tent, “let me look you over.” 

“I’m not… too bad…” Petra huffed out with some difficulty, “Can’t catch...my air…”

“No need to say anymore, dear,” Manuela smiled tenderly as she placed her ear to Petra’s back. “Hmm… The good news is your lungs sound fine, nothing ruptured at least. Honestly, I wish Alois wouldn’t have thrown you half-way into next week. The man could stand to learn some moderation.” 

Petra started to speak, but decided instead to just shake her head. Manuela poked and prodded at Petra’s ribs and sternum, eliciting a small wince on as the healer pressed on her right chest. “Well, you did break one. Fortunately it’s small and didn’t puncture your lung. I’ll get that healed up and that should help. Other than that and some nasty bruises, I’d say you’re good to go for the next bout.” 

Petra smiled at that. She could redeem herself at least. Professor Manuela always seemed to know what a student needed to hear to lessen the sting of defeat. Petra liked that about her professor. Manuela’s white magic flowed through Petra like a warm bath, and her difficulty breathing seemed to lessen as the warmth centered on the broken rib. Before long, her breathing evened out. With a deep sigh, Petra savored the feeling of no longer drowning on land. “You have my thanks, Professor,” she replied courteously before jumping off the exam bench.

“Now, enjoy the battle. You can learn plenty from simply watching. Use the chance to get an eagle-eyed view of the ordeal as a whole,” Manuela smiled as she sat down to watch the students.   
“I shall. There is still much I can be learning from here.” Petra had learned months ago that education did not simply happen in the classroom or on the battlefield. Observing battles had just as much to offer as being on the front lines. From here, she could see how Ferdinand had dispatched most of the Knights, and that Edelgard’s unit was coming centrally to break the last remnants of their line. Lindhart had warped Hubert to be closer to his liege now that the snow paths had been completely cleared. Hubert began to wreak havoc with his dark magic, incapacitating most of the armored units, Alois included. She smiled with the satisfaction that even with her misstep, her class had turned the tide. Victory seemed assured as the Knights units became surrounded. 

“Dedue!” Manuela’s voice distracted Petra from her observation, “Goodness, whatever happened to you?” 

Petra immediately whirled around to see Ashe and Manuela attempting to help the large man. He was favoring his right leg heavily, and his jaw clenched tightly with each new step. “Let me help!” Petra leapt to Ashe’s side to help support the large man’s weight.

“Knee twisted,” Dedue’s breath hissed through clenched teeth, “felt something pop. Can’t walk.” 

“Don’t worry, Dedue,” Ashe’s gentle voice crooned as they eased the much-larger student to the first-aid tent, “Manuela will get you patched up.” 

“His Highness--,” Dedue gasped out, before cursing in what Petra assumed was Duscari, “--is he..?”

“He’s fine,” Ashe replied placatingly. “If anything, I think he feels bad you hurt your knee while fighting him.” 

“That’s not--urgh,” Dedue couldn’t seem to get his thoughts out properly while dealing with the pain in his knee. 

“That’s enough, now,” Manuela patted Dedue on the shoulder as she lay him down on the examination bench, “let me have a look at that knee of yours.” Manuela bent Dedue’s left knee and wiggled it side to side before she tugged it forward. This didn’t seem to bother him. But when she repeated the same maneuver on his right leg, Dedue gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Manuela pursed her lips. “Just as I feared. You tore one of the ligaments in your knee. This is going to take a bit.” 

“Will he be okay, Professor?” Ashe’s voice radiating concern.

Manuela spoke with her back turned to the students as she rummaged in her supply trunk. “Of course, I’m in the business of keeping you crazy kids in one piece, after all. However, I’m going to need some time to work on it. So for now, I’m going to splint it and do some preliminary work before I go grab some other healers to help. But he should be back in action by this afternoon.” 

Ashe’s shoulders sagged with visible relief. “Thank goodness. I’ll go report back to Dimitri and the others. They’ll all be relieved to hear the news, and I’ll ask if Mercedes can come help.” 

As Ashe began to walk out of the tent, Petra stepped closer to Manuela. “What can I be doing to help?” Petra asked eagerly. 

Manuela, her head still buried in her trunk, responded, “Are you sure dear? I know healing isn’t one of your main areas of interest.” 

“Yes, but Dedue is my teammate, and if I can be helping him, then I wish to.” Petra stole a quick glance and a smile for Dedue. It seems he hadn’t noticed, his eyes screwed shut from pain.   
“Very well, dear. If you could hold these for me,” Manuela hefted some rolls of bandages, a few vulneraries, and a mortar and pestle into Petra’s arms. 

Petra glanced back at Dedue. He seemed slightly more settled now, though his posture remained tense with discomfort. It felt so odd to see him so agitated. Normally, his demeanor remained staunchly calm, almost unflappable. Seeing his face emoting so fully, it felt like a rare glimpse beneath that calm exterior into some deeper part of him. 

“If you could give him one of the vulneraries to take the edge off, Petra,” Manuela bustled around the room, grabbing a pillow to prop up Dedue’s swollen knee into the proper position. She was a controlled whirlwind of purposeful movement in the small tent. 

Petra nodded, uncorking one of the bottles in her hand and proffering it to Dedue. Still grimacing, Dedue wordlessly met her eyes and nodded. There was that softness in his eyes again. Petra started slightly as Dedue’s fingers brushed against hers to grab the vial. His face remained soft as he downed the pain-killing medicine, in spite of his obvious pain. Petra found herself puzzled by the feeling welling in her chest, somewhere between discomfort and excitement. 

“Petra, dear,” Manuela called, pulling the Brigid warrior from her confused musing, “could you give me those bandages so I can wrap his knee?”

“Yes, Professor,” Petra hopped over, eager for the distraction. Had she imagined it, or had Dedue’s eyes followed her as she turned away? 

“And if you could take those herbs I pulled out and grind those for me, I’d be very grateful,” Manuela followed up as she grabbed the rolls of cloth.

“Is there any tricks to be done?” Petra asked as she looked for the herbs in question.

“No, just mash them up until they make a paste. I’ll take it from there.” Manuela turned to Dedue. “Has the vulnerary kicked in yet, dear?” 

“I believe so,” Dedue’s voice seemed unsure. Petra glanced back to see his face with the tell-tale flush of the medicine. She’d only taken a full vulnerary in quick succession once before, but she felt funny afterwards: cottonheaded, slow to think and slower still to react. There was a reason they only used them sparingly in the field. 

“Good, then let’s get that knee of yours bound up.” Petra watched from the corner of her eye as she ground the herbs together, the clatter of stone on stone accompanying the scene before her. Manuela began wrapping the cloth around the swollen knee with deft movements of her wrist and hands, passing the cloth under and around his knee. Dedue still winced on occasion, but he seemed more comfortable now. His gaze landed on Petra more than a few times, and the same odd energy tingled inside her each time she caught his stare. 

“Dedue!” Mercedes rushed into the tent, her breathy voice full of maternal concern. “How’re you feeling?” 

The Duscarite replied simply, “In one piece.”

“Well, that’s the hope, in any case,” Manuela chided as she tied off the bandages around his knee. “It’s an anterior cruciate ligament tear. Have you treated one before?” 

Mercedes nodded, her blonde hair bouncing against her shoulder. “A few times before. I think a small review couldn’t hurt.” 

Manuela began to explain the anatomic positioning and how that would affect the white magic they would utilize. Petra tuned out the medical jargon easily. She knew so little of the words for medicine as it was. She felt content knowing that the two healers seemed to understand one another, and knew how to fix whatever was broken. By now, the herbs had been mushed into a cohesive, green paste. She wordlessly walked it over to Manuela and placed it at the foot of the exam bench where Dedue remained seated. 

Petra noticed a certain glassiness to his eyes that wasn’t there before, alongside the flush of color to his already tan face. “How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, so as not to disrupt the healers’ discussion. 

“Fine. I just hope His Highness is doing well,” Dedue replied placidly. 

“Prince Dimitri had not had injury done to him, yes?” Petra fumbled a little with the conjugation, but she thought she got her point across. 

“No, but he’s been in a bad way lately,” Dedue mused, his brow furrowing with gentle concern. 

“Does he have illness?” 

“Not exactly…” Dedue’s gaze drifted up to Petra as he spoke, “He reminds me of you actually.” 

“But I am not ill,” Petra questioned, unsure of what she missed in Dedue’s comparison. 

Dedue spoke in his usual matter-of-fact tone, but his words slurred slightly as the painkiller continued to flood his senses. “You both put others before yourselves, and sometimes that same concern for others puts you at risk for hurting yourself. Yet you still do it.” 

Petra mused for a moment, before things seemed to click into place. “Ah, you are worried his worrying for you will give him harm?” 

“Something like that,” Dedue’s glassy, teal eyes met Petra’s and seemed to linger a moment longer than usual. “Irit would have been about your age…”

“Who?”

“My sister. You are 16 now, yes?” Dedue’s eyes grew distant as he spoke, the analgesic flush growing on his tanned cheeks.

“Yes, as of the Horsebow Moon.” Petra decided to humor the conversation. She had no idea where these diversions had come from, but she was amused by how talkative Dedue had become. 

“She had that same stubborn earnestness that’s in your eyes. She had a warrior’s spirit, far more than I ever did. I just wanted to help my mother garden and tend the house, but she always tagged along with the hunters…” Dedue sighed with nostalgia, his gaze far beyond the cloth of the medic tent. “You would have gotten on with her very well.” 

“What is she like?” Petra urged, curious about Dedue’s home and family. 

“Eager. She could hardly sit still. Whenever our aunt tried to teach her how to use the loom, she nearly went mad. But if it involved moving outside, she could go for hours. She loved the plains of Duscar, especially the wildflowers. That was the one thing we both loved, flowers. I preferred those I could cultivate, but she loved the ones that ran wild in the fields where the gazelles grazed.” 

“I would love to meet her one day,” Petra smiled gently as she spoke. 

“In the afterlife, I sure she’d love to meet you.” Dedue’s voice grew somber, but his gaze stayed faraway. 

Petra grew quiet, recognition dawning slowly upon her. “The Prince is your only family now, isn’t he?” 

“Yes,” Dedue replied simply. 

Petra placed her gloved hand on Dedue’s broad shoulder. She said nothing. She had no eloquent words of comfort in either Brigid’s or Fódlan’s tongue. All she had was silence, and she would give it freely. 

Dedue’s eyes met hers. For once, she could clearly read the emotion beneath their teal depths: a deep, aching sorrow, the sort that scars the heart. She knew that too well. Her own people’s loss still tasted bitter on her tongue. A defeat far worse than a snowy skirmish. She hoped he could read it too. 

“Thank you for your help, Petra,” Manuela broke the gentle silence tactfully as she strode forward with a small wooden up in her palm, and a small cohort of monks at her heels. 

Petra withdrew her hand and offered a quick, small smile to her comrade in suffering. “I’m happy to have been helpful, Professor,” she replied simply. “I shall wait outside until you are completed.” 

“Alrighty, dear. Do stay warm out there.” Manuela then directed her attention to her patient as Petra wove her way out of the tent, “This is to help the swelling. It’s not pleasant, but it will help. I’d recommend knocking it back quickly.” Dedue accepted the herby-smelling medicine without much complaint, his gaze still drifting half-lidded toward the tent flap as it fluttered shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to mix the fan canon that vulneraries have some gnarly side-effects with modern side-effects from strong painkillers. I definitely indulged a little in the medical stuff with Manuela, but you almost had to suffer through me going through the intricacies of clinically diagnosing an ACL tear, so it could have been worse!
> 
> Needed an excuse to get Dedue talking a little bit. I'll build on this a little more further on. Just laying down some foundational stuff for now. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Germination

Petra found herself sore but content after another hard session. Sparing in the snow proved difficult, but at least she was warm from the exertion. It reminded her of running on the loose sand of the shorelines of Brigid. Only the snow was deeper, heavier, and slickened everything. 

Professor Byleth stood on the side to observe her bout with Felix carefully. While Petra felt herself an equal to the Faerghus nobleman in the sparring hall back at the monastery, Felix had the distinct advantage in this terrain simply due to experience. However, he relied on speed and precise footwork as much as she did. Petra hoped she could use that to her advantage. 

Felix took the first strike, a stab toward Petra’s chest. She rolled her torso out of the way, placing her weight on her back to foot to prepare a feint. Felix took another step to close the distance, his momentum from the previous strike carrying him forward. Petra took one swing forward with her sword only to shift rapidly to the true strike as she rapidly shifted her weight. The wiry man jolted backwards, barely escaping Petra’s trap. 

Petra pressed forward on her advantage. She nearly caught Felix flat-footed, but he recovered quickly enough to bat away her strike. His gaze burned as he quickly went on the offensive again. This time, he kept the pressure on Petra. Swing after swing wove into one another, and Petra found herself struggling to keep her distance from his blade. She did her best to try and circle to the side, to regain room to maneuver in and out of strike range as she preferred. But Felix kept her penned in. 

A small growl escaped her clenched teeth. Petra knew she was on the ropes. She had to alter the flow of this match or it would be a win for Felix. She could not--would not--suffer two losses in a row. Her warrior’s pride would not allow it. 

With a swift jump forward, Petra swept Felix’s ankles, exploiting the razor thin space in between his swing arc. A bruising blow to her shoulder was her toll for such a risky gambit. She didn’t quite trip him, but she did knock him off balance. That was enough.   
Petra pressed her advantage, dancing forward with slashes and swings. Felix danced backward, somehow keeping his feet underneath him in the deep snow. Then, subtly, there was a stutter in his step. She pounced.

With a shove, and a kick behind the crook of his knee, Felix thudded into the snow. With her knee on his chest and her sword point at his neck, Petra allowed herself to revel in her victory. “Yield?” Petra huffed as she caught her breath.

Felix’s flinty gaze met hers. “...I yield.”

Extending her hand, she pulled him up from the snow. “You were nearly beating me. I have great joy from that match.” 

“Yes, but you’re skilled enough to make me work for it. Let’s spar again later.” Felix did not smile, but he did nod with an air of respect--a rare sight. 

“Alright,” Professor Byleth strode down between the two students. “Let’s go over some notes for both of you. Felix, great job keeping the pressure on. Next time, I want you to focus on your--”

The instruction was interrupted by a sudden efflux of students from the open field up to the nearby hillside. Following the flow of the crowd, Petra saw what had merited such a distraction in the middle of the lesson. She smiled as she saw a small swarm of bodies surrounding Dedue, happy to welcome him back. Mercedes walked up to Professor Byleth as she separated from the press of the small crowd. 

“Professor, I just wanted to let you know that Dedue is cleared to fight. He still has a vulnerary in his system, so just make sure he doesn’t overdo anything. He might not feel another injury in the state he’s in now.” 

Professor Byleth gave a rare, subtle smile at the news. “Thank you, Mercedes. I’m glad he’s able to walk again.” 

“Oh, it was no trouble at all!” the white mage demurred, her smile sweet and matronly. 

Petra glanced over at the crowd. Dedue seemed overwhelmed by the wave of people concerned for him, yet he smiled. He looked quite handsome with a smile, even a small, shy one. It provided a nice contrast to the stoic strength he normally exuded. A strange, electric flutter went through her chest at the sight.

“Petra!” Professor Byleth’s sharp voice brought her back to attention. 

“Yes, Professor?” Petra tried to bury the embarrassment in her voice. 

“Let’s get back to reviewing.” 

Byleth provided additional pointers to the both of them on snowy combat. Adjusting a grip here, demonstrating footwork there, but always quick, direct, and applicable. Felix and her were instructed to practice these bits of footwork during the next matches. “Keep it up until you don’t need to think about it anymore,” he’d said. 

So, Petra and Felix stood away from the bench of students awaiting their turn, dancing through the snow with wide but light steps. Petra’s feet ached with the cold, but the continued movement helped a little. After two more bouts between Ashe and Bernadetta and then Hubert and Annette, the two swordsmen fell into a comfortable rhythm. Their muscles moved on their own, allowing their minds to focus on the next matchup. 

“The Boar’s hound and the shrimpy wonder,” Felix drawled sardonically, “wonder who will win?” 

Petra bristled slightly. “Those seem unfairly harsh things to be calling them.” 

“You’re defending someone whose kin murdered your family and a man with no will of his own?” Felix’s eyebrows arched with a bitter curiosity. 

“It is unkind to insult others behind their shoulders,” Petra fumbled to explain her distaste for Felix’s harshness. Her relationship with Caspar was certainly not straightforward. She admired him as an individual, though she couldn’t always fight back the bitter hatred for his father she harbored inside. Nevertheless, she still didn’t believe that insulting his height was honorable. She knew how desperately Caspar wished to be taller. 

“The phrase is ‘behind their backs’,” Felix trained his eyes onto the field where the match had begun with a roar from Caspar. Dedue parried Caspar’s axe effectively, then pushed back on the haft in an attempt to stagger the shorter man. “Besides, he lives only to serve The Boar. I have little respect for that kind of blind allegiance.” 

“Is it really so bad to follow one’s duty?” Petra quipped back. 

“Duty’s a four-letter word,” Felix spat acerbically. “Just a fancy term for giving up your own desires for that of someone else. It’s a fool’s errand to die for it.” 

“But there are promises we make,” Petra offered back, “vows we must be honoring. Our words are counting for nothing if we cannot be keeping them.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Felix countered. “A promise is from one person to another. There’s will behind it, intention. Duty is something nebulous and made by other people, often old or long dead. It just strings you along by others’ expectations with no accounting for your own desires or wishes.” 

Petra mulled over Felix’s words. “So, what would you be calling a duty in opposition to a promise?” 

“Duty is like the bond of a knight to his king. It’s his _duty_ to stand by his lord in a war, to swear fealty, to go wherever they are sent, to attend banquets and balls when invited, and die for his lord if asked.” Felix spat the words, as if they sat bitter upon his tongue. “A promise is from one person to another. An equal, not a liege. It’s more personal, less rigid. Like how I promised the Professor I’d learn black magic, even though I think it’s a waste of time. I made that promise because I respect him. My position as the next duke forced duty upon me.” 

Petra puzzled for a moment, “So, if I were to be asking you to spar with me after class and you had agreement, that is a promise. However, if Edelgard ordered me to follow her in battle, that would be a duty?” 

“More or less,” Felix groused. “It’s a bit more nuanced, but you’ve got the idea.” 

Silence fell over the two swordsmen as they watched the rest of the bout. Petra let her thoughts wander, the familiar pattern of her muscles dancing in the snow all the while. Duty did not seem such a dirty word to her. Not the way it was for Felix. She had a duty to her grandfather and her people to become a strong ruler. She also had her odd duty to Edelgard. A prisoner and a comrade. A foreign dignitary and a political hostage. It was messy, but it wasn’t exactly impersonal at all times. She’d spent a great deal of time wondering about their relationship. Now, she had a newfound respect and admiration for Edelgard as a leader. She was driven, dedicated, shrewd, and charismatic. All that and she was only a few years older than Petra herself. Perhaps, she could be proud of a duty to the Imperial Princess, but would that conflict with her duty to her people? 

A cheer from the crowd distracted her from her thoughts. Dedue had won, though it looked like Caspar had given him a good fight. Caspar seemed in high spirits despite the loss, grinning gregariously as he shook Dedue’s hand. 

Dedue simply nodded, his face impassive. As Professor Byleth came by to offer feedback, Petra noticed Prince Dimitri running over to Dedue’s side. Dedue’s face softened as the prince clapped him on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion. It was clear the prince and Dedue held one another in high regard. While Dedue didn’t speak much in response to Dimitri, it was clear he clung to the prince's words attentively. 

“Tch, I can’t stand this,” Felix stopped his footwork abruptly to glare at his classmates. “It’s like watching a hound fawn over its master.” 

Of all of Felix’s jabs, this one finally seemed to raise some ire from her. “Are you finding friends so distasteful?” 

“What they have isn’t friendship. It’s blind servitude.” The swordsman began to grab his kit in a huff as Professor Byleth called for a lunch recess. Petra sighed. She enjoyed the swordsman’s skill, but his prickly nature could be...a lot at times. 

Grabbing her own sword and armor, she ran carefully over toward her teammate, taking care not to slip on any covered rocks or roots. While she was shorter than many in the Empire, the men of Faerghus practically towered over her. But Petra prided herself on not being intimidated by such things. Instead, she tapped Dedue on the shoulder and proclaimed, “Dedue, I am hoping that I am not interrupting. Would you be liking to eat the lunch--um lunch with me?”

Prince Dimitri startled slightly before giving a polished bow. “Ah, my apologies, Petra. I didn’t see you there.” With gentle smile, he addressed the tall Duscarite, “Dedue, I did not mean to monopolize your time. I’m simply grateful that you are whole and safe.”

Petra couldn’t help but smile at this young ruler’s fluster. He wasn’t at all what she had pictured from her politics lessons. Rather than most aloof Fódlanese nobles, she found him surprisingly kind and approachable. “You are more than welcome to be joining us, Your Highness. Unless you are wishing to eat with your team in the place of us.” 

“Actually, the faculty have asked the house leaders to report over lunch, so I really must go soon. But thank you very much for your consideration.” Dimitri looked to his friend with a knowing smile. “Please, enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you later, Dedue. Stay safe.” With that, the prince strode off toward the faculty tent. 

“I am seeing why you are so close to him,” Petra smiled as she and Dedue began to make their way toward the campsite. “He has...great charm and kindness.” 

Dedue’s brows softened slightly. “Yes, he does.” 

They trudged in comfortable silence for a little while. Felix’s words and general disdain still niggled at the back of her mind, and she desperately wanted to probe further into his concerns. 

“How is your leg feeling?”, she broke the silence as gracefully as she could. 

“Better. Thank you for your help earlier,” Deduce replied. 

The swooping, buzzing feeling in her stomach returned as she thought of their moment together in the medic tent. It was the most open and verbose she’d seen Dedue...ever. “I did not do much, but you are welcomed. It was a pleasure to be helping a friend.”

“You consider me a friend?” That subtle, shy smile graced his face. Petra couldn’t help but return it. 

“Of course. You are having understanding of my own people’s suffering and my own strugglings in Fódlan. I would be most happy to be having your friendship.” 

Dedue’s smile faded into a soft, contented gaze as the two of them continued toward their tent. “I would like that.” Petra beamed at his acceptance. 

Opening the tent flap, Petra sat down to remove her wet boots, so as not to track snow into the tent. “I am eager to be receiving lunch. My stomach has been making the hunger sounds.” 

“I’ll see what I can do to fix that,” Dedue replied mildly. Did she imagine the slightest hint of humor in his words? Why did that make her chest feel so warm?

Buoyed up by his (relative) openness, Petra decided to open up a little in kind. “I was having a conversation with Felix earlier, but it is leaving me with more questions than answers.” She paused a moment, leaving Dedue an opening to respond. With a quick glance over his shoulder as he untied his own boots, he gave a simple nod. Relieved, Petra continued, “We were discussing the meanings of ‘duty’ and ‘promise’. I was thinking that they were the same, but it is apparent that there is great difference between the two.” 

Dedue didn’t speak right away, taking the time to finish removing his boots before opening up their supply bags to assess what he had to work with for lunch. As he fished around in the rucksacks, he prompted, “What did you learn from Felix?”

“That Felix is having some past pain with duty, but he is viewing promises more kindly,” she began. 

“That is not surprising,” Dedue mused as he plucked out some hardtack, cheese, and a few hard apples. 

“I do not think duty is so bad a thing. I am having mine to my people, and to Lady Edelgard. It is important to be keeping those duties, I believe.” Petra stumbled a little at the end. Conveying these thoughts would have been difficult enough in her mother tongue! She definitely did not have an adequate grasp of Foldanese for such tricky concepts. “I am the heir to Brigid, after all. I must be caring for my people before myself.” 

Dedue handed Petra her share of the lunch rations, as well as a few chestnuts he had roasted the night before. “You really are like His Highness,” he murmured more to himself than to her. 

“Well, we are both...um...royal. I would believe that we are sharing some ideas on how to be living our lives.” Petra nibbled on the apple as she fumbled for her limited vocabulary.

“It’s not just that. Few leaders truly put their subjects first. Many will do just the opposite, in fact.” Taking out a small knife, Dedue began slicing his cheese wedge onto the hardtack. “Your people will be lucky to have you as their ruler.” 

Petra glowed at the praise. “You have great kindness, Dedue. I am only hoping I can be keeping them safe. Even if I must be the pawn of the Empire for now.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Dedue had stopped mid-bite, eyes wide. 

Petra cocked her head to the side as she continued to chew her apple. “Are you not knowing? I am not in Fódlan by my own choosing. I am in the Empire as..um...ah--”

“A hostage?” He offered. Dedue’s deep gaze remained focused on Petra, his food all but forgotten in his hands. Like the ocean...warm and full of something unknowable...

“For lacking of a better word, yes. I am being cared for and given the education, but it is all to be ensuring my grandfather will not be rebelling again. In return, Brigid is now an unwilling vassal to Adrestia.” Petra hardly felt any venom in her voice anymore. She’d repeated this story so many times before that she had learned to mask any emotions surrounding her situation. 

There was a short pause, but Dedue eventually responded hesitantly. “I was not aware. My apologies.” 

“It is not a problem. I am not being mistreated, and it is keeping my people safe. And I am getting the chance to study here, so it has not been all bad.” Petra smiled wanly, trying to lessen Dedue’s apparent discomfort. 

“So, then, what are your feelings toward Edelgard?” Dedue questioned cautiously. 

Petra paused. “That...is not an easy question to be answering. On the one finger, her father and his army were murdering many of my people, including my own family. Yet, since I’ve been living here, I have growth of respect for her. I have admiration for her strength and ambition, and she has done much to help me feel more welcomed.” 

Dedue ate quietly, mulling over her words. 

As the silence stretched on, Petra tried her best to bring the conversation back. “So, how are you feeling about Prince Dimitri?” 

“I am his vassal. I seek to ensure his safety and comfort in all things,” he replied briskly, almost rehearsed.

“That is not really answering my question.” Petra pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her. “You two are seeming more like friends than lord and vassal to me.” 

Dedue looked Petra in the eyes, his gaze searching. What he found, she wasn’t sure, but he looked away and continued. “I suppose it’s not so simple either. His people have hated mine since the death of his family. Yet, when all the rest of Faerghus was clamoring for retribution, he was the only one who vehemently upheld Duscar’s innocence. He saved my life during the Tragedy.” A small smile shone in his eyes, though his face remained impassive. “We helped one another recover. We have relied on one another ever since. I would do anything to help achieve his goal of finding the truth of the Tragedy, and bringing Duscar back from the ashes. ” 

Ocean waves had knocked Petra over with less force. The revelation left her reeling. “It makes the sense that you are so close to him. I-I have jealousy. I am admiring Edelgard, but she is not close to me as Dimitri is to you.” 

“It is no fault of Edelgard’s. Like I said, you and His Highness are cut from the same cloth. Not all leaders look out for the downtrodden and seek to soothe wounds among their subjects. One who does is truly special.” There was a pause, warm and profound as his praise hung in the air. Abruptly, Dedue finally seemed to remember that he had food in his hand and began to eat again. 

A pleasant, wriggling warmth settled into Petra’s stomach. She met Dedue’s gaze, suddenly a bit shy. “You are most kind. To be...compared to such a person means great things to me.” 

Dedue smiled--soft and warm--and Petra felt that same jittery warmth suffuse her from head to toe. The tent--earlier so drafty and cold--now felt as warm and comforting as the summer nights in Brigid. This felt far different from even her deepest conversations with Dorothea, who she considered her dearest friend. This was...something special. Something altogether different. Something new sprouting inside her, watered by ocean-green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so sorry for the long pause between chapters! It's been a bit tricky with interviews, wedding planning, and clinic hours to find time to write, but I (finally) got something to show for it. This chapter may have been a bit more Felix and Petra centric, but I think this fic is rapidly turning into my "Petra supports we need but don't have" fic. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and hopefully the wait for the next chapter isn't so excruciating.


	4. Seedlings and a Green Thumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunchtime girl chat gets personal. Dorothea's shipping instincts go off.

As Dorothea came into the tent to eat, Petra still felt herself floating in that warm, fog-like feeling. She could hear the noise of their conversation, but it was like all those months ago when Fodlanese was nothing but meaningless sound in her ears. She ate automatically. Her stomach did not pester her with hunger. It remained distracted by its newfound wings.

Dedue found her special. And he had looked upon her so kindly, and spoken with such warmth… She felt as though the world became suddenly brighter and her head full of cotton. 

“--right, Petra? Petra?” Dorothea’s voice finally pierced through the pleasant fog. 

“Y-yes?” 

“My goodness, where did you go off to?” The songstress leaned close to Petra, her gaze searching. “Are you feeling well?” 

“I am fine,” Petra replied, impressed at how she managed to keep her voice steady. “Simply losing my thoughts.”

Dorothea smiled kindly, “Did you mean you were lost in thought?”

“Yes, that,” Petra corrected. “Dedue and I were having the chat together before you came.”

Dorothea gave a knowing grin, her jewel-like eyes flashing dangerously. “I see... Well, don’t keep me in suspense! What topic got you so stuck in your head you didn’t even say hello to your best friend?” 

Petra froze. Before she could think of an effective way to sidestep the question, Dedue came to her rescue. “We were discussing our lieges and our respective relationships with them,” he spoke in his typical, even cadence. 

Dorothea nibbled her hardtack demurely, “Well, now that certainly is heady business. Edie can be a bit distant, but she certainly has charisma in spades. But that prince of yours, Dedue, now he seems like quite a character!”

Petra couldn’t resist the chance to tease Dorothea back, (and divert attention away from her earlier inattention). “You are setting your sights on Prince Dimitri for a husband, are you?” 

Dorothea huffed playfully, “Well, he certainly is handsome and polite, but he seems painfully naïve. Who can say? I’m sure he’s practically drowning in potential suitors anyway. And Fhirdiad is far too cold for my liking.” 

Dedue continued to eat stoically as the two women teased one another. Petra could almost read a hint of relief in his own features. One rescue in exchange for another seemed fair to her. 

“Now Dedue, I’m dying to hear it from you: what is Dimitri like? He seems so stiff and formal, but I’m sure you know what he’s really like behind all that courtly polish.” Dorothea’s winning smile was now centered full-force onto the Duscarite. 

Dedue seemed to hesitate, though his features remained guarded. “He is a kind man. I know that he will rule wisely when he takes the throne next year.” 

“Oh no, no, no, Dedue, that’s not what I mean. What are his hobbies? Does he like anyone? Surely you know him better than most as his retainer. Why, Hubie practically knows every detail of Edie’s life, it seems. Down to the thread count of her stockings!” 

Dedue’s features remained closed off. “I don’t believe he would want me sharing things like that. Besides, I do not know what sorts of attributes women look for in men.” 

“Oh, you’re no fun, Dedue,” Dorothea pouted. “I guess you can’t expect girl talk from a man, right Petra?”

Petra swallowed her hardtack ruefully. “Actually, I am confused as well. Why would Dedue be unable to be answering certain questions?” 

_‘And why had he said some of those things to me not ten minutes prior nearly unprompted…?’_ Petra wondered silently. 

Dorothea sighed like a long-suffering mother. “Well, for both of your education, there are certain things a potential partner might be interested in.” Turning to Petra, she asked, “What do you find appealing in a lover?”

“Ah, you are asking questions of romantic preferences.” Petra paused, her eyes darting around the room before meeting Dorothea’s eager gaze. “I have not done much thinking on what I am wanting. After all, I will likely have the arranged marriage. It is not making sense to--uh--get up my hopes.” 

Dorothea tore at her hair and looked like she was ready to cry. “Oh, come now, Petra! Truly you have some thoughts as to what sort of spouse you would like?!” 

Petra found a shame-filled blush creeping up her neck. “N-no.” 

“Haven’t you ever had a little boyfriend or girlfriend before? Or at least a childhood crush? Anything...?” Dorothea seemed to grow more desperate as the questions continued. 

“Umm, well once a friend was giving me a jackfruit she climbed a high tree to get, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek… We, uh, dated for three days and then ended it...we were 9 years old...” Petra trailed off. Even in her naïveté, she knew that hardly counted as a relationship. “I suppose there was also a boy who told me I had pretty eyes and then never talked to me again when I was 12…”

Dorothea’s eyes widened. “By the gods, Petra, I didn’t know you were such an innocent little thing!” Sitting on her knees, her words grew serious yet impassioned. “Okay, so let’s start simple. Do you like men, women, or both?”

Petra wilted. She didn’t like feeling inadequate, and it appeared she bore great deficits in manners of the heart. “Both.” She tried to sound confident.

“Do you ever notice certain things drawing your eye? Or traits you find appealing?” 

Petra worried her lip as she thought. Had she ever taken time to think of what she liked? Apphia and Lazaros sort of happened to her rather than her growing to like them. As she spoke, she began to fidget with the tip of her braid absentmindedly. 

“Well, I am liking someone who is strong. A good partner should be able to hunt. It is not good if in addition to being queen I must be feeding them.”

Dorothea smiled, though it appeared a bit pained, “Okay...that’s certainly a start. You want someone self-sufficient. What else?”

Encouraged, Petra grew a little more confident as she thought aloud. “Someone who would enjoy the outdoors and sparring would be preferable… Someone kind, devoted would be nice. Someone who can be supporting me as a ruler, but stand on their own two legs. Someone who can be teaching me new things, new ideas.” 

Dorothea nodded encouragingly. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere! Clearly, you like men who are dedicated but who won’t use you just as a political stepping stone.”

Petra nodded. In spite of herself, she found this conversation liberating. To converse about imaginary, prospective lovers gave her a sense of belonging she didn’t realize she longed for until now.

“Now, what about any physical traits?” Dorothea pushed further. 

“Umm… I have not thought as much about that…” Petra took a bite of her cheese slice as she pondered. Petra’s eyes drifted subconsciously to the Duscarite sitting across from her as she spoke. “I suppose I’ve always found green eyes to be appealing. They are not most common on Brigid, but they are rather striking.” 

“Oh, Petra, if you like me so much you should just say so,” Dorothea batted her lashes as she teased her friend. 

“If you are teasing me then I shall tell you no more of my heart’s desirings!” Petra threatened through her laughter. 

“Oh, darling,” Dorothea crooned dramatically as she squeezed Petra, “it can never be, for I am hopeless with a bow! You’ll need to wait on me hand and foot!”

The two tussled playfully as Dedue ate serenely, watching the two young women with barely-contained amusement. As the two calmed, Dorothea returned her scrutiny to Dedue. “Now, your turn Dedue. What type of partners do you like?” 

Dedue took one last handful of roasted chestnuts. He chewed solemnly, swallowed and paused. “I suppose I can try…”

Dorothea beamed, “Well, go on then.”

Dedue thumbed his earring as he spoke. “...I suppose I always find conviction appealing.” 

Dorothea allowed a lull for a short while. As it began to stretch to an uncomfortable length she coaxed Dedue gently. “Is there anything else you like? Hair style, body shape, food preferences?”

“...I like to be needed, I suppose.” Petra grimaced sympathetically as Dorothea attempted to extract anything beyond a few simple phrases. “I enjoy cooking, and I like it when others enjoy it.” 

Dorothea smiled sweetly, “Whoever catches your eye will be a lucky one. Your food is something exquisite.” 

“Thank you,” Dedue relaxed at the complement. “I guess kindness is something I like,” he continued, “I find myself drawn towards soft-hearted individuals.”

“That is certainly a good thing to be wanting,” Petra piped up. “You are certainly worthy of being cherished. A person with kindness would be important for you.” 

Dorothea’s quick eyes nearly missed it, but she distinctly saw a brief widening of Dedue’s eyes and a small tensing of his shoulders before he offered his thanks to Petra. And then there was Petra’s little staring spell earlier… 

_‘How intriguing…’_

Dedue continued, more readily this time, “I tend to find people of my own complexion more attractive, but some Fódalani have caught my eyes before.” Petra perked up immediately at that implication. Dorothea smiled as she watched the princess subtly check the color of her wrist. “Though, few Fódalani view me the same.” Dedue’s tone grew resigned as he finished his cheese. “Certainly, anyone who would love me would need to be brave. It would be hard to marry a man of Duscar. I wouldn’t wish any ridicule to befall them, yet it is nearly assured.” 

Petra nodded quietly. She understood. If fortune favored her, at least she had a people and home to return to. Somewhere she was not stared at, asked if she knew how to use a fork, or called unkind names. 

Dorothea placed a gentle hand on Dedue’s shoulder. Her lovely face smiled in sympathy. “You will be worthy of whoever holds your heart. They just need to be worthy of you first.” 

_‘And if my instincts are correct, she is.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading friends! Shorter chapter today, but the next one is looking pretty long, so we will see how that proceeds. 
> 
> You guys have been super patient with the upload schedule, and I really cannot say how much I appreciate that. I love reading your comments and watching the views counter ticking upward. 
> 
> (Seriously, Dorothea's chemistry with Petra is strong. I think no matter if their bond is platonic or romantic, these two ladies are bound to be close parts of one anothers' lives.)
> 
> It was kind of fun to realize that halfway through writing the conversation between these three that they all have strong romantic chemistry with both male and female characters. Truly, a bicon tent. It did hamper things a little in terms of what I could describe, but in fairness, I don't think Petra or Dedue have given it much thought in their lives.
> 
> Coming up next: class hunting mission, Petra becomes a TA, and Dedue tries to be sneaky


End file.
